Questions
by sunshiiine23
Summary: Peeta's return to District 12 changes something in Katniss.  Despite the pain and hardships, she allows herself to hope for better.
1. Chapter 1

_AN: So I'm not big on writing fan fiction anymore, but I figured I'd try to get back into it. _

_Is this how it's supposed to be?_

The question reverberates in her head for days. It becomes part of her schedule. Get up, walk around the empty house, avoid the outside world, attempt to eat, hold the screams back, question everything about her existence. She grows comfortable with this routine, yet each day, she becomes more and more infuriated.

When he comes back, his presence only serves to fuel her anger. How dare he come back into her life, after all that had happened? How dare he plant the primroses in front of her house? How dare the capitol take him from her? How dare she still long for his touch?

The nights are a different story. As soon as the sun sets, her anger is immediately replaced with fear. She sees Cato's face, ripped and bloody, begging for death; Rue's little body, the spear sticking out of her chest; fires engulfing the Seam as people scream for help; Finnick's body being torn apart piece by piece; Prim's eyes as the bombs drop, full of fear and pain. When she wakes up screaming, she buries her head in her pillow and wraps her arms around herself, searching desperately for the same comfort that she once had, the comfort that she can't deny that Peeta provided.

It's the anger, not the fear that pushes her out the door that morning, carrying her bow and arrows that Greasy Sae had brought her. Clarity. She needs clarity and she sure as hell can't find it in that suffocating, incredibly empty house that she has allowed herself to consider a refuge. She walks quickly through the streets, trying and failing to ignore the death and destruction that still lingers on every corner, in every blackened pile of debris. When she reaches the fence, she slips through a hole and steps into her former sanctuary.

Breathing deeply, she looks around at the familiar landmarks, each one containing its own precious memory. Her eyes linger on the rock that used to be her rendezvous point with Gale. She walks over, tapping her toes against the firm gray stone. _Is this how it's supposed to be? _Her anger boils up once more, clouding her vision with images of fire and smoke enveloping her and her sister.

Gale's fault. Her best friend. She lets out a soft sob as her legs give out. Fire engulfs her once again. She stares in horror as Prim's sweet face burns away, her own burnt hands gripping onto her sister for dear life. She looks desperately at her face again; Prim opens her eyes, her bright blue eyes. Confusion sweeps over her, for although every inch of her sister's body is on fire, the smile in her eyes is unmistakable.

"It's alright," Prim whispers, the smile evident even in her voice.

The scream ripping through her brings her back to reality. Blinking, she finds herself back in the woods, curled up on the ground, her hands balled up in her hair. She can still feel the fire licking her body, still hear echoed screams. She sits up, clutching her knees to her chest, trying to slow her breathing. A branch snaps behind her and she whips her head around. As her eyes fall on him, he freezes.

"I saw you walking through town," Peeta says, looking weary. "I was worried."

"I'm f-fine," she replies, clearing her throat. She avoids his eyes, turning her gaze to his large hands, raised up in surrender.

"You're bleeding." he says. He walks forward slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal.

Looking down, she notices the gash in her hand from her earlier fall. She tries to speak again, but only a small noise escapes her lips.

He sighs and extends his hand to her. She hesitates slightly before putting her uninjured hand in his, allowing him to pull her to her feet. She continues to avoid his eyes as he leads her back to the Victor's Village, never letting go of her.

They enter her house and he sits her down at the kitchen table. Out of the corner of her eye, she watches as he grabs bandages and alcohol from the pantry. He sits in front of her, taking her hand in his once again, and begins to clean the cut.

"Sorry," he whispers as she winces from the sting of the alcohol. She doesn't reply. Thoughts whirl in her mind, questions that she can find no answers to. Why is he here? Why was he following her? Was he really worried about her? Why is she not angry? Why is his touch sending electric pulses through her skin? He finishes cleaning her hand and wraps it with the bandage. She can feel his gaze on her as they sit there.

"Say something," he says, now holding her bandaged hand in both of his. "Say anything."

The desperation she hears in his voice only serves to confuse her further. She attempts to once again work through the questions in her head, and allows one to bubble up to her lips.

"Why were you following me?" she whispers as his thumbs start to rub circles on the backs of her hands.

"Like I said, I was worried," he replies. "I haven't even seen you leave your house in days. There are never lights on."

It's the truth, turning lights on isn't part of her routine, and the last time she left the house was to steal a bottle of white liquor from Haymitch as he slept off a hangover one afternoon. She had planned on drinking the whole bottle that night, but only got through half of it before her body spit the alcohol back out. Silly, really, to think that no one would notice her attempts to shut out the world.

"Sorry," she replies, though she's not sure what she's actually sorry for. She can feel his eyes on her, but refuses to meet his gaze.

"You don't have to apologize, Katniss," he says, dropping her hand to run his through his already tousled hair. "I just want to know that you're okay. I hear you screaming at night, in my dreams and in real life." His voice drops off at the end.

She can't think of anything to say, so she looks back at his hands. She remembers the comfort they used to give her, before those same hands tried to choke the life out of her. She expects to feel the anger begin to surface as it usually does, but instead, all she can feel is longing to have his hands touch her as they used to. The desire is so strong that _she_ reaches out to _him_, putting her small hand over his larger one before finally speaking.

"I see them die. Every night, over and over. Prim, Finnick, Rue… All I see is blood and fire. It scares me," she says. _But not as much as it scares me to wake up alone, without you, _she mentally adds. Where are these thoughts coming from? It's as if the anger that once consumed her entire being has been replaced with one simple desire: Peeta's touch.

She allows herself to look at his face and has to remind herself not to gasp as she finally holds his gaze. His eyes, so clear and brilliantly blue, bore into her and send shivers through her body. His hand reaches up to brush her cheek gently.

"Katniss." His hand reaches up to brush her cheek gently. "It will be alright. Hey." He tilts her chin up when she tries to look away. "We're going to be okay."

She hears the sobs before she feels them wracking through her body, hot tears falling down her face. Peeta pulls her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her. He rocks steadily, whispering soft words that she can't hear above her own weeping.

He stays with her all that day. They prune the primroses out front. They try watching the television. She helps him bake a batch of butter cookies. He tries to teach her how to make frosted flowers. He sketches the sunset as they watch it from the porch. She allows herself a smile, the first one in months, as she watches his face and becomes distracted by his eyelashes once again.

That night, she wants him to stay, _needs_ him to stay, but can't find the words to ask him. Instead, she leads him up the dark stairs to her room. He pulls back the covers for her and she climbs in. She senses his hesitation as he starts to move away from the bed. Before he can get far, she grabs his wrist, holding onto him like a lifeline. She again meets his blue eyes.

"Stay." She means it as a request, but she knows she's begging now.

"Always, he whispers. That word, which has come to mean so much to her, seems to echo in the dark room. He squeezes her hand, steps forward and climbs into bed. As his arms encircle her, she feels a warmth creep up her body and she lets out a contented sigh.

Minutes continue to pass as sleep eludes her. She lays there, head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. The heat has not left her body and it fuels her actions. She raises her head to see his face. He looks completely content, eyes shut, mouth slightly open. She lifts her hand and runs her fingers softly through his bangs. His eyes snap open and he stares at her. Her hand moves to cup the side of his face.

"Katniss." He places his hand on her cheek, mirroring her action. "Katniss, can I kiss you?"

Her breathing hitches. Her body responds before she has a chance to actually consider his request. She leans in and closes her eyes as his lips meet hers.

Her hand moves from his cheek to the back of his neck where it grasps his hair, pulling him in even closer. He gasps softly into her mouth, moving his hands slowly down from her shoulders to her torso, coming to a stop at her waist as he grips her closer. She feels his tongue slide along her lip and she opens her mouth to allow him in. Her body is again on fire, but this fire is so different, so welcome.

They're moving now, rolling until she rests on top of his body, gripping his biceps. His left hand moves from her waist up her back until it's threaded in her hair. They're lost in each other, completely, both of them either unwilling or unable to break the kiss first. It's lack of breath that causes them to break apart finally. Peeta pulls back, kissing her once, twice more gently on the lips. She rests her forehead on his as they try to catch their breath.

"Peeta," she breathes out. "I missed you."

He places his hands on either side of his face and stares at her, as if trying to decipher some hidden message in her confession. A smile breaks out over his face as he wraps his arms around her once again, burying his face in her hair.

"I missed you, too. I missed you so much," he sighs.

As they drift slowly off to sleep, the question pops into her head once more_. Is this how it's supposed to be? _ She can't stop the hope that permeates every fiber of her being.

_Just a heads up, I don't know how often I will be able to update. I will try my very best to do so in a timely fashion, but life is unpredictable. _

_Thanks for reading and have a wonderful day!_


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: Ah Spring Break, you make it so easy to update! I struggled for quite a while over how fast I really wanted this chapter to move. I feel as if I reached a happy medium, but who knows? Give me your opinion! I have about five more chapters lined out (give or take a few) and I'm hoping to have another chapter out later on in the week. I appreciate the reviews! Thanks for reading!_

_How do I get him out of my head?_

All she can think about. He's the only thought in her head. She couldn't be more pissed off about it. In between the _Where's Peeta_'s and the _What would Peeta like_'s and the _What is Peeta doing_'s comes the only sane question she seems capable of asking: _how do I get him out of my head?_

It's been nearly three weeks since he found her in the woods and since then, they had fallen into a schedule that carries them through each day and night. Their routine had developed naturally, but the transition is tough for them both.

In the mornings, Peeta heads back to his house to begin baking bread which he later delivers around town to the few families that have returned to start a life back in District 12. Katniss heads into the woods to hunt, bringing nearly all of her kills to Greasy Sae. In the early evenings, he makes his way to her house with a small assortment of baked goods. They attempt to teach each other to cook, a feat that proves to be disastrous several times a week, what with her stubbornness and his perfectionism. Afterwards, they take a walk around the outskirts of town, talking about anything and everything. Occasionally, they watch Plutarch Heavensbee's new singing show, laughing at how trivial and silly the show is while never admitting how much they actually enjoy it. At night, they climb into her bed, limbs tangling together, the pain and anger from that day melting away with each deep breath.

The problems started the morning after their first night back together. Peeta had gotten up and headed downstairs to make breakfast before she had awoken. She had been angry at first when she rolled over to find herself alone in bed, but that anger quickly turned to fear as she realized that he could be _gone_.

When he reentered the room a moment later carrying a plate of toast and jam, her fear transformed back to anger and she immediately began screaming at him. Peeta had been momentarily confused before he began yelling right back at her. She knew she had no real right to be angry with him. In all honesty, she was angry at _herself_ for feeling so petrified just because he had not been there when she woke up.

To her, though, the anger makes more sense than the fear. Besides, she can't let him know how terrified she becomes each time she thought of her life without him. So she uses the anger as often as she can to muffle the growing panic in her chest.

Peeta rises spectacularly to each fight she presents him with, using profanities she knows he never would have used before the hijacking. The first time he called her a bitch, she had been so surprised that she completely forgot the spitting retort she had thought up. They didn't speak to each other the rest of the evening. When they climbed in bed that night, she scooted over to the edge, making sure to be as far away from him as she could stand. She was surprised to feel his arms pull her toward him. He whispered apology after apology, until _she_ was the one feeling guilty and she pulled his head down to join their lips.

She always broke so damn easily, but would always be willing to pick another fight the moment the fear became too much for her.

The lightning in the window pulls her out of the latest round of Peeta-thoughts. It's late, and she knows he should have gotten back by now. She impatiently looks out the window, hoping to see him walking up to the door, but instead seeing only the sheets of heavy rain falling from the sky. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she tries to think of something, anything, besides Peeta's whereabouts.

Her mind refuses her request. With an impatient sigh, she stands up and walks out of the kitchen and down the hall, stopping in front of the room in which Peeta keeps his paintings and supplies. Her hand hesitates on the handle for a moment before she pushes the door open.

Stepping inside, she is first overwhelmed with the sheer amount of color and blinks several times to adjust her eyes to the sensation. It's then that she notices the blood that seems to cover nearly every canvas in the room. Bogg's blood spilled out over the street. Gale's bloody back after being whipped. Finnick's blood gushing out as the mutt's devoured him. Blood, blood, and more blood.

She feels her pulse quicken, bile quickly rising to her throat. She can't stop her eyes from passing over each canvas, each horror so beautifully preserved. Her eyes stop suddenly on a medium sized canvas tucked away in the far corner of the room that sticks out among the carnage.

A dandelion, growing against the side of a brick wall, full and bright. It's a simple painting, yet it's enough to stop her panic and block out the gore surrounding her. She steps forward to run her fingers across the cool, dried paint. She feels a whirlwind of emotions move through her, her mind unable to fixate on just one. The slamming of the front door snaps her out of her daze and she runs out of the room.

A soaking wet Peeta stands near the door, peeling his jacket off of his body. She allows herself half a second of relief before quickly resorting to the only response that she feels she can truly trust: anger.

"Where the hell have you been?" she screams as he drops his soaking coat to the ground. "You said you would be back before five!"

He turns his face to her, glaring. "Have you looked outside at all? I didn't have an umbrella, so I was trying to wait it out it town. I really didn't have a choice." His tone turned sarcastic. "Is that alright with you?"

"No, actually, it isn't!" she retorts, seething. "I had to eat alone because you couldn't remember a stupid umbrella!"

She knows that this is just yet another argument that makes absolutely no sense. But she refuses to admit to him that she was just scared, terrified that he was gone for good.

"You know what, Katniss, this is really starting to piss me off!" He's screaming now, hands balled up into fists at his sides as if he's trying to restrain himself. "Why do you do this every damn day?"

"Maybe I wouldn't if you would stop leaving me!" Her words reverberate around the room as they continue to glare at each other.

Realizing what she's just said, she stomps upstairs and slams the door to her room shut. She stands at the foot of her bed for a few seconds, fuming, before collapsing and letting out a sob. He knows her secret now. She can't fully hide her fear from him anymore. She feels too vulnerable and it's maddening.

It feels like an eternity before she finally hears him coming up the stairs. He enters the room and changes into pajama pants without speaking to, or as far as she knows, looking at her. She tenses up when she feels him get in bed, reprimanding herself for hoping he'll reach out and pull her into his arms as he normally does.

"Katniss," he says, making her jump. His fingers softly flow through her hair once. "Why do you think I'm leaving you?"

Even though she is halfway expecting the question, it still stuns her. Unable to think of a response, she wraps her arms around herself and tries to disappear under the covers.

He pulls her arm until she turns over, facing him. She tries her best to avoid meeting his eyes until he puts a finger under her chin and lifts it. His eyes are soft, full of the compassion that reminds her of their nights on the train. He brushes her bangs away from her face, patiently waiting for her answer.

"I lost you once," she whispers. "I know it will happen again. I'll wake up and you'll be gone. I'll spend the rest of my life waiting for you to come back and you never will."

She refuses to cry, so instead she fixes her eyes on his and tries to read his thoughts. His eyebrows are pulled together, a small frown on his lips. It's as if he can't make sense of what she's just said.

"Where else would I be?" He speaks slowly, emphasizing each word. "Who would take me away? Why would I want to be away from you?"

"But-"

"No, Katniss!" He grasps her shoulders, his eyes never leaving her face. "I'm staying here, with you. I'm sorry, but there's really nothing you, or anyone else, can do about it!"

His lower lip trembles slightly. "Please," he whispers. "Just let me be here with you. Please."

Her eyes widen at his words and all she can think about is how much she needs him. It only takes her a fraction of a second to press her lips fully against his, desperately grasping the hair at the base of his neck. He responds immediately, their tongues finding each other, exploring each other's mouths.

Peeta rolls her onto her back and hovers over her, pressing his lips to her eyelids and cheeks before making his way to her neck. She feels his tongue pass over her skin and fights back a moan. His hand moves past her waist and runs down her thigh before he pulls it up to his waist. She involuntarily moves her hips slightly against his, and feels his breathing increase in speed.

He brushes the sides of her breasts as his hands move up her rib cage. She gasps, clutching his shoulders. He looks at her and moves his hand slowly from her neck to cover her left breast gently, silently asking her if this is okay. She can't stop the moan that escapes her lips as he begins to massage slowly. He smiles at her reaction before returning his lips to hers.

She doesn't object when he pushes her shirt up and pulls it off to reveal her scarred body. Strangely, she's not afraid for him to see her. He knows her scars, physically and emotionally, and she knows he accepts each one of them. He trails kisses down her throat and she welcomes the warmth of his mouth on her breasts. She moans loudly, grazing her nails down his bare back as he moves his mouth to her other breast.

"Katniss," he murmurs, brining his head up to rest his cheek against hers. His hands move over her torso, stopping at the waistband of her pajama bottoms. He gently rubs the skin there, waiting for her reaction.

She puts her hands over his and together, they push her clothing down. When she's completely bare, they pause and stare at each other, neither of them able to speak. Peeta leans in, kissing her softly. His hand moves down her body and he runs a single finger over her most sensitive area.

She gasps loudly, not used to the sensation but desperate to feel it again. He does not disappoint her. His fingers begin to move slowly, exploring her. He watches her closely the entire time, eyes bright with desire.

The pleasure is almost too much for her as he slips a finger inside her. She moves her hips against his hand as he finds a rhythm. His mouth moves against her neck, slightly nipping and sucking as her breathing becomes more erratic. She knows that he's bringing her to closer and closer to an unknown end.

Her legs begin to shake against his waist and, seconds later, the release crashes over her. She pinches her eyes shut, head falling back onto the pillow as waves of pleasure pass through her body.

She breathes his name out and pulls him down to her. She kisses him everywhere she can reach. When her hands stop trembling, she tugs at the drawstrings of his pants, wanting to make him feel as good as he just made her feel. She is confused and a little disappointed when he pulls her hands up and places them on each side of his face.

"I told you," he whispers, his breath warm on her skin. "I'm not going anywhere. We have all the time we want."

She feels the disappointment slowly ebb away as the realization sinks in. There was no rush. No Hunger Games, no Snow, no war. The sword hanging over their heads had disappeared, leaving them free to truly live however they wanted. She smiles as he kisses her cheek and for the first time in what seems like forever, she feels content.

Peeta rolled over, gathering her up in his arms. He sighs contentedly and kisses her forehead. Although she should be tired, she can't seem to keep her eyes shut. She turns her attention to Peeta's dozing face, eyes closed and mouth slightly open. Brushing his hair softly from his eyes, she smiles and wonders why the hell she ever wanted this boy out of her head.

_AN: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please leave me a review and tell me what you think! Have an AWESOME day :)_


	3. Chapter 3

_AN: Thanks for the reviews! I hope you enjoy this next chapter :)_

_When will it stop hurting?_

The question comes out in broken sobs as Peeta pulls her into his arms. She could still hear her screams echoing through the room.

"Katniss, shh," Peeta whispered against her cheek. "It's okay, it's over."

"It's not okay!" she sobbed, gripping the front of his t-shirt. "_I'm_ not okay!"

Another sleepless night. Peeta's presence had helped her, giving her comfort when she awoke screaming. Unfortunately, even he couldn't stop the fiery images that burned behind her eyes.

Silent tears fall down her face as Peeta continues to rock her back and forth. "I'm so tired, Peeta. I'm just tired," she says, closing her eyes. She asks again, "When will it stop hurting?"

He doesn't answer right away, but she can feel his hands running up and down her arms. He sighs deeply and says, "I think you need to go to your old house."

She looks up at him, confused. "Why? What good will that do?"

"Closure? Coming to grips with reality? Honestly, I don't know if it will do any good. But I think we need to do it."

She's silent, thinking about what he has said. After several moments, she nods. "Okay. Let's do it."

Peeta hugs her tighter to his body and she tries to relax.

In the last few weeks, her relationship with Peeta had improved beyond what she ever thought it would. Their fights still occur, but much less frequently. Each night, he goes to bed with her and comforts her when she wakes up screaming. She realizes how much she has come to rely on him and surprisingly, isn't upset with this fact. As she stares at his face, she tries to convince herself that he'll still be there if she goes to sleep.

They walk out of the Victor's Village later the next afternoon. He grabs her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. She holds tight, as if he's her lifeline. She can feel the fear rising in her throat and chastises herself for being so weak. They were just going to look. That was all.

"Are you okay?" he asks, looking over at her. Afraid to open her mouth, she just nods once.

They reach the bakery first. The old sign that hung above the door lays cracked and splintered on top of glass shards. A pile of twisted metal marks the place where the huge oven once stood.

Peeta steps forward, dropping her hand. He walks over piles of charred rock and rubble, looking around with glazed eyes. When he finally stops, his shoulders are tense.

She's afraid for him, wondering if seeing this might trigger some horrible, hijacked memory. She takes a step forward, a piece of glass crunching under her shoe.

He spins around, locking eyes with her. His pupils dilate as he takes her in and his fists clench at his side. A second later, his eyes are back to their brilliant blue and tears begin to fall from his eyes.

He opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a choking noise. She tentatively takes another step forward. He continues looking at her, but seems to be under control. She continues taking small steps towards him until they are separated by a few feet.

Peeta finally finds his voice. "My family died here. Real or not real?"

"Real." She whispers.

He looks down, kicking a piece of rubble with his shoe. His eyes find hers once more and she can see the desperation in them. "You're here. I'm not alone. Real or not real?"

She closes the space between them, placing a hand on his cheek. "Real."

His bottom lip trembles and she pulls him into her arms, letting him cry into her shoulder. He finally pulls back and brushes his lips against hers.

He rests his forehead against hers. "Thank you," he says.

"I didn't do anything," she mumbles.

"You're here," he says, shrugging his shoulders. "That's what I needed."

They're silent as they walk towards the Seam. With each step, her heart pounds harder in her chest. She grips Peeta's hand tighter, keeping her eyes on the ground.

When they reach her house, she can't bring herself to look up. Peeta stands by her, running his thumb over the back of her hand soothingly. She takes a deep breath and lifts her head.

The brick chimney provides a landmark to navigate through what remains of her home. She steps forward alone to the spot where the kitchen table once was and looks around, taking in the ash, soot, and burnt bricks. A hollowness form in her stomach as her eyes scan over the remains of the room she shared with Prim.

She wants to feel something other than the pain. She wants to feel what Peeta felt after they left the bakery. He had found something there that helped him. Why couldn't she find that, too? She searched her mind for some conclusion or emotion that would bring her peace, but all she could find was more hurt, more pain that would never go away.

He comes to stand beside her, glancing at her face. "Are you okay, Katniss?"

She sighs and looks around once more before looking at him. "There's death here, Peeta. Just death." She looks down, wrapping her arms around herself. "It still hurts."

He takes her hand and squeezes it, leading her back through the debris.

It's dark when they arrive home. They're silent as they prepare for bed, each consumed with their own thoughts. She climbs into bed first and feels him climb in soon after, pulling him against his body. His lips find hers and she allows herself to become lost in the feeling, momentarily forgetting about the pain from the day.

They had spent the past few weeks exploring each other's bodies. His hands knew just the right places to touch her to leave her writhing in pleasure. She had found that her own hands could make him moan her name over and over. However, their exploration never ventured past heated touches.

She runs her hands up his arms and around to the back of his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair. She wants to continue touching him, to blot out the horrors in her mind, but she's too exhausted and Peeta senses it. He pulls back and takes her face in his hands. "Let's sleep."

She can't deny that she's tired, so she lets him wrap his arms around her. She soon falls into a fitful sleep, morbid images floating through her head for yet another evening.

The next afternoon, Peeta leaves her at the house while he delivers bread in town. She wanders down the hall, pausing by Prim's room. She touches the doorknob and briefly considers entering. When she thinks back to the previous day, she withdraws her hand. The only thing waiting in that room is more death.

She's sitting in the living room brooding when Peeta returns.

"Katniss!" he calls from the kitchen, and she can hear a note of panic in his voice. She runs in, panicked by his voice.

He has his jacket wrapped around something cradled in his arms. He walks to her and extends the bundle to her, moving his jacket to the side for her to see the bundle of dark brown fur.

"It's a puppy," he says, concern lacing his voice. "I found it near the fence on my way home. His leg is bleeding."

"So you brought it home with you?" she asks him incredulously. She looks at the little injured leg and can see a long gash, bleeding and oozing pus. The puppy was taking quick and shallow breaths, occasionally letting out a tiny whimper.

He looks down at the puppy. "I thought we could help him. He's so little."

"Peeta…" There were many wild dogs in District 12 and it didn't surprise her to see this abandoned puppy, but she couldn't understand why Peeta had brought it home. Judging by the injury, the thing would be dead in a matter of days, if not sooner. "We just need to put it out of its misery. It's suffering."

"It's a he," Peeta says, bringing the puppy back to cradle him at his chest. "We can at least try, Katniss. What's the harm in trying?"

"He's just going to die!" she says exasperatedly.

Peeta sighs, looking at her. "Hasn't there been enough death? Isn't it worth trying for something better?"

She chokes on her words. Peeta moves to stand in front of her and she reaches up and strokes the puppy's soft ear. "Okay. Let's try."

For the rest of the evening, she rummages around her mother's old medicines, looking for anything that might help to heal the infected cut. After medicating and dressing the wound, they place blankets in the bottom of a box and set it in their room. She watches as Peeta gently lowers the puppy into the box, stroking his fur as he quickly falls asleep.

Later, they sit in the tub, soaking the day away. Her feet sit on his left thigh and he gently rubs them as she allows herself relax.

"Thank you for helping him," he says. "I think he can make it through."

"We'll know more in the morning, I guess," she says. She's been mulling over exactly what to say to him, how to explain why she changed her mind and helped the puppy. "I think you're right," she sighs, leaning her head back to stare at the ceiling. "There's too much death. I forgot that it's possible to live."

He smiles at her as she turns around and settles her back against his chest. She traces the lines in his hand. "It still hurts, thinking about them," she says quietly. "They all died. The worst part is, I think I'm forgetting the little things. It's like the pain covers up all the memories of them."

"I know," he says. "But I don't want to forget the good memories, or the bad."

She's silent for a few moments before replying. "Let's make a book. Like the plant book, but people. That way we won't have to worry about forgetting."

"That sounds perfect," he says, and she can hear the smile in his voice. "Let's start working on it tomorrow."

They both relax against each other, happy with the idea.

"So, about the puppy," Peeta says, grinning. "Can we keep him?"

She rolls her eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "We'll see."

_AN: I'll attempt to have the next chapter out quicker than this one. Hope you enjoyed it!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Welp. This took longer than expected. I apologize for the delay! _

_Before we get to the next chapter, here's a little playlist. I love it when stories have playlists to go along with the overall tone/theme of the story, so I hope you enjoy!_

_The Wolves (Act I & II) – Bon Iver_

_Desire – Ryan Adams_

_White Blank Page – Mumford & Sons_

_Sleep – The Dandy Warhols_

_Skinny Love – Bon Iver_

_Never Let Me Go – Florence + the Machine_

_Lump Sum – Bon Iver_

_Misguided Ghosts – Paramore_

_Jezebel – Iron & Wine_

_Wash. – Bon Iver_

_Only If For A Night – Florence + the Machine_

_Holocene – Bon Iver_

_Brighter – Paramore_

_My Lady's House – Iron & Wine_

_Your Protector – Fleet Foxes_

_Cosmic Love – Florence + the Machine_

_After the Storm – Mumford & Sons_

_Blood Bank – Bon Iver_

_No Light, No Light – Florence + the Machine_

_Michicant – Bon Iver_

_How can I help him?_

She often asks herself this. Too often, she can never think of an answer. Helping Peeta is like walking through a field of landmines. She's never sure if he will willingly accept her assistance, or snap at her and shut down. It's beyond frustrating.

Bracing herself, she moves forward to where he's sprawled on the ground. Bear, a frisky, playful ball of energy, bounds over to him, licking his face in excitement. They had been outside pruning the primroses around the house and, as he had made to stand up, his artificial leg had buckled, sending him back down to the earth.

She places a hand on his shoulder. "Peeta? You okay?"

"I'm fine," he says sharply, pushing her hand off his shoulder. Knowing she'll only frustrate him further by arguing, she steps back as he struggles to his feet. He glances at her briefly before turning and heading into the house.

Sighing, she follows him inside. She knows it will be another long evening. Over the past few weeks, Peeta's mood has taken a turn for the worse. She often finds him sitting in his painting room, staring at the jumble of colors, which are mostly hues of red, and muttering softly to himself.

She tries to pinpoint exactly what might have triggered his dark mood, and thinks back to a night shortly after he had brought Bear home.

_They sat on the living room floor, Peeta's back against the couch, Katniss sitting between his legs and leaning into his chest. In front of them, the little brown puppy greedily devoured the scraps of turkey left over from last night's dinner. Over the past week, his wound had scabbed over and his energy and appetite had appeared in full force. With his belly round and obviously full, he walked clumsily over to them, snuffling around Katniss' feet. Peeta stretched a hand out and the puppy waddled over to it._

"_So what should we name him?" Peeta had asked, allowing the puppy to gnaw on his thumb._

"_Oh, I don't care," she replied dismissively. Despite having spent the past week nursing the creature back to health, she was still brooding on the fact that Peeta had so easily convinced her to take in another mouth to feed._

"_Come on, Katniss, quit pouting. He's just a little puppy." He lowered his mouth to breathe into her ear. "He's cute and he needs a name."_

"_How about Peeta?" She suggested, trying to sound irritated. She was still annoyed, but could feel it ebbing away. "'No, Peeta!' 'Bad Peeta!'" She glanced back at him. "It would be perfect."_

_He grinned, and she couldn't help but smile with him. "I think I would get confused as to who exactly you were talking to. How about Bear?"_

_She glanced down at the puppy, who was still occupied with mauling Peeta's thumb. "It fits him, I suppose." Peeta grinned and kissed her cheek._

_In that moment, she couldn't help but to think of him as her Peeta again, the boy she knew before the Capitol had hijacked him. _

_For the next few hours, they worked on their book. She watched, fascinated, as Peeta brought Cinna's fiery dress to life on paper. Pain and longing mixed with love and healing. _

_They had gone to bed soon after, wrapped up in each other's arms. She awoke sometime later to a still dark room and a missing Peeta. Wandering downstairs, she found him in his painting room, sitting in front of a blank canvas._

"_Peeta?" she called softly, not wanting to startle him. "Are you okay?"_

"_I'm fine, Katniss." His curt reply was not what she expected and he had yet to look at her. She took a few small steps forward, intending to put her hands on his tense shoulders. _

"_I said I'm fine!" he snapped, still not looking at her. "Just…. just go to bed, Katniss." She left, feeling confused, and even though she didn't care to admit it, a little hurt. _

After that night, incidents like his fall from today send him into bad moods quickly.

She tries everything she can think of to bring him back to himself during times like this. She's tried singing to him, approaching slowly until she can lay a hand on his back. She's brought Bear into the room, allowing the puppy to run around Peeta's chair in endless circles, begging for attention. During her last attempt, she stood directly in front of him and placed his hands on her breasts before bending to kiss him. He sometimes responds to her efforts, snapping out of his haze and smiling at her as he pulls her to him, sliding off the chair to play tug-of-war with Bear and his recently commandeered wool sock, allowing her to slip her tongue into his mouth before tugging her shirt off over her head. But these tactics only work occasionally, and the next day, he'll be back in his foul mood.

So now, after his fall, she's not surprised that he refused her help. As she steps into the house, she hears a door slam and she knows he's locked himself in his room full of blood and gore and paint.

She eats dinner alone that night, but leaves a plate of food out for him on the counter. After checking on Bear, who is fast asleep on his pile of blankets, she heads upstairs and changes into her pajamas. She feels wide awake as she climbs into bed, waiting for him to come back to her.

When she hears him walking up the stairs to their room, she rolls onto her back to watch him slip quietly into the room and change for bed. Despite her frustration with him, she can't help but allow herself the indulgence of watching him unbutton his shirt and slip it from his broad, scarred shoulders.

He gets into bed and turns onto his side to look at her. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm really sorry." His fingers brush the top of her shoulder and skim down her arm.

She's silent for a moment before rolling over to face him. Instead of replying, she leans forward and presses her lips to his. He's slow to respond, but eventually weaves his hand into her hair, holding her to him.

When they break apart, her eyes search his face. "What's wrong?" she asks softly. He rolls onto his back, throwing an arm over his eyes. He doesn't speak for what seems like several minutes, and she's about to ask again when he speaks.

"Everything was going so well. I was….." He struggles to find the word. "…_happy_."

"And what's wrong with that?" She can't quite see the word _happy_ fitting into her vocabulary yet, but Peeta deserves it.

"It felt wrong," he says. "It just felt wrong to be happy, after everything that's happened. Does that make any sense?"

It makes complete sense to her, but it sounds so wrong coming from him. He's warm, strong, and good. Why should he not have that happiness?

"Yeah, it makes sense," she replies. "Just…. not for you." She sighs and reaches to touch his face. In her mind, she sees his dandelion painting, bright and beautiful among the carnage of his other paintings; a true symbol of hope. She can feel blood rushing to her face. This feels like revealing too much, but this is something she wants him to know. This is something he _needs _to know. "I don't know if I'll ever truly be happy, but you're the one who makes me... makes me hope that maybe one day it's possible. I want you to be happy, Peeta. I want to help you be happy."

He turns to face her. "Katniss, you _are_ the reason I feel happy." His hand covers hers. "I just lose myself in the past sometimes. In the arenas, in the Capitol, in Thirteen. It makes me feel guilty about letting myself feel happy. I'm sorry for taking it out on you." He smiles. "We're helping each other. It's what we do-"

It's not so much his words as it is his smile that causes her to cover his mouth with hers. _This_ is her Peeta. Strong. Warm. She pours everything she has into the kiss.

Neither of them seems to be willing to be the first to let go, and the kiss becomes more heated. Peeta rolls them, pinning her to the bed as his knee settles between her legs.

She can feel her heart racing as his hands run down her sides and grasp the hem of her shirt. His hands shake slightly as he removes the shirt and tosses it to the floor. As their bare skin touches, heat pools low in her stomach.

His mouth descends onto her and she grasps the hair at the base of his neck. She can't stop the whimper that escapes her lips as his teeth graze over her breast.

Her hands fumble as she pulls his shirt over his head, revealing his chest and torso. As she runs her hands across his now familiar scars, she can't help but think _how beautiful _his imperfections are.

She feels his hands trail down to the waistband of her pajamas. They've gone this far before, but this time feels different. An unseen barrier is about to be shattered by their heated and nervous touches. He doesn't hesitate to pull her pajamas and panties down her legs, leaving her naked before him. She can feel his eyes on her as his hands graze over her scarred body. "Beautiful," he whispers. "So damn beautiful."

His shorts are the only barrier between them now and her hands rest on his hips. His hands join hers as she slides them off. Her legs open and he settles between them, propping himself up on his elbows.

"Katniss." His voice is low as he meets her eyes. "Are you sure you want this?"

She can't find her voice, so she nods and winds her arms around his neck. He kisses her slowly and she can feel his heart racing.

When he enters her, it hurts, though not as much as she expected. She keeps her eyes tightly shut as he slowly pulls out and pushes back in.

It's not long before most of the pain is gone and is replaced by pleasure. Her hips rise to meet his and his name slips from her lips more than once.

His head is buried in her shoulder and she can feel his breath coming out in short gasps. His thrusts are faster, deeper and she can feel the pressure building inside her. He whispers something in her ear, but she can't understand what he's saying. She decides it doesn't matter when his hand moves to where they are joined.

Her head falls back as he pushes her over the edge and her nails rake down his back. She's still gasping for breath as he begins moves in and out of her quicker. It's not long before she feels his rhythm falter and hears him moan her name.

He collapses on top of her and she reaches up to push his sweat-soaked hair out of his face. When he raises his head to look at her, there's a smile on his face. He kisses her eyelids, nose, and lips softly.

When he pulls back, his blue eyes search her face.

"You love me. Real or not real?"

She should hesitate. She should deny what she knows is the truth, but she can't. She doesn't think twice.

She kisses his forehead before replying, "Real."

_Whew, finally! Okay, the plan is to continue this story. I have the next few chapters lined out, but I'm not sure how quickly I can get around to writing them. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'll reply to all reviews! Thanks for reading!_


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